


Onomatopoeia

by qu33nb33



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Abuse, Child Abuse, Gen, Magica de Spell's A+ Parenting, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 00:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16315562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qu33nb33/pseuds/qu33nb33
Summary: Slam. Boom. Smack.It was, for some reason, comforting.Or, a story in which Lena has all the wrong coping mechanisms, and her family finds a way to help her.(WARNING: Major self harm/child abuse themes. Hopefully treated with tact [from experience] but please don't take this lightly. Also not meant to be 'grimdark kids show' stuff.)





	Onomatopoeia

**Author's Note:**

> if you somehow got to this point without seeing the abuse/sh warnings, PLEASE CONSIDER THEM NOW
> 
> if you're reading this fully aware of them, welcome! 
> 
> this isn't meant to be "oooh grimdark kids show hahaha" stuff, im just trying to portray a real, possible situation these characters could be in. hopefully i get my points across right, and people can (unfortunately, im so sorry) related to lena's struggles.
> 
> please let me know if you have any notes/corrections/etc
> 
> as if right now this will probably be three parts: this intro, another chapter involving the kids and donald and scrooge, and an epilogue. if i end up not writing them, well........ this will be downgraded to a oneshot haha. it can stand well enough on it's own anyways.

**_Slam._ **

She was so incredibly stupid sometimes. It was like her mouth was it's own being, a being that wanted her to suffer. Time and time again she found herself saying the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong person and it was  _exhausting._

They understood as best they could, of course. They were strict, sure, but they had never raised a hand at her. Barely raised their voices at her. Even when she made Louie cry-- _that had been an accident, even Louie knew that at the time--_ she had gotten no worse than a frown and an hour in her room. They knew her. They understood.

So why was she so, incredibly,  _angry?_

**_Boom!_ **

Her bookshelf wobbled momentarily and two books fell off. Satisfied that it wasn't about to crush her-- _uncertain if she wanted it to--_ she continued what she was doing.

She felt... suffocated. And alone. At the same time. How was that possible? To feel alone, soul-crushingly alone, and still feel like there were too many people around? Too many stares, too many opinions, too many people to eventually disappoint.

She was so, so, so scared of disappointing them. She was terrified of seeing shame in their eyes. She could hear Beakley's words, old and stale yet ever painful,  _those_ children have bright futures. But she didn't. She was--Was--

 _Useless,_ Magica's voice never left her,  _Completely useless. A tool. A disgrace._

But they didn't think that, somehow. At least--at least not yet. They probably would. Maybe they would. Would they?

**_Smack._ **

Her own thoughts were way too loud in her head. She wasn't even entirely sure what she thought, or what she was upset about. It was like she lived in a cloud, like her brain was on fire and the smoke clouded her vision. She was numb and yet she felt too much.

She remembered the way Magica treated her, a sharp contrast to her current family. The words, the insults, they terrified her much more than anything else. And yet, still, she remembered the things Magica did when her magic was at it's peak. Thrown books, toppled tables, jolts of electricity that made the base of Lena's skull buzz.

Beakley didn't do that. Scrooge didn't. Donald didn't.

What was different? Why didn't they hit her? Why didn't they scream at her, tell her she was useless?

Worse, did she  _want_ them to?

"Stupid, stupid,  _ack!"_ She flinched back as she hit her elbow too hard on her nightstand. It wasn't intentional, which surprised her.

Her face felt hot and stuffy from her tears.  _Why can't I just be normal? Why can't I just not care?_ She scowled.

**_Bang!_ **

She didn't understand that it was caring that was normal. She was supposed to feel like she was wronged, feel angry about her treatment. But she didn't  _understand_. She couldn't yet understand that she deserved to be upset.

Unfortunately that also meant she didn't deal with it in the best of ways.

"Lena!"

She fell flat on her bottom with a grunt as she reeled back. She had thrown herself into the bookshelf headfirst again, with the intent of making her head hurt so much she couldn't think any more. It was a solid plan... Kind of. Not really, it was actually kind of a terrible plan. But it felt better than not knowing what to do.

Then she realized she had heard a voice outside of her own head, and that was kind of odd, and suddenly Beakley took up her field of vision.

"Get them out of here, I got this." Beakley said to someone in the room, but Lena's vision spun too fast for her to be able to tell who it was. "Lena, Dear, are you alright?"

Lena huffed, confused, and squinted her eyes at Beakley. Was she alright? Why would she ask--Oh. Her arm was bleeding. Just a little bit, but when you have white feathers it's kind of obvious. She also suddenly realized her whole body hurt  _really bad._

"It hurts." Was all she could get out as she hung her head, embarrassed. She had been aware of what she was doing and yet--and yet she also  _hadn't_ been.

She was starting to get real tired of that paradoxical crap.

Beakley's voice was soft, which surprised Lena. She half expected a lecture of some kind, some kind of 'why are you doing this, what's wrong with you' monologue. "It's okay, it's okay." The soft voice and reassuring words she got instead was jarring. "I need to check your wounds, okay? Come, let's get you to the bathroom."

Lena made a move to get up but Beakley wrapped her in her arms and lifted her with ease. Lena flinched back a bit, half out of fear and half out of pain. She had messed up her wrist somehow and held it close to her chest. Beakley paused for a moment to ensure Lena was okay before they moved to the bathroom across the hall.

Lena sat atop the counter and Beakley shut the door behind them.

"What hurts the most?"

Lena felt a bit of relief as Beakley's normal tone returned. The no-nonsense attitude was familiar and comforting as Lena tried desperately to cling to anything. "My wrist feels funny."

She held up her right wrist for Beakley to inspect. They both frowned at her fingers, which obviously had hair wrapped around them to the point of tangling. She had a bad habit of pulling fistfuls of her hair when she was upset. Beakley gently managed to snip away the hairs, careful of avoiding the feathers, before she tried to twist Lena's wrist around.

Lena whimpered in pain and instinctively pulled back her wrist before it registered she could trust Beakley. Beakley for her part tutted.

"Sprained, I'd say. How did..." She hesitated, which Lena didn't like or appreciate. She knew, logically, Beakley didn't want to upset her again. But at the same time... Lena's mind was still clouded.

She shrugged softly, careful of her injuries. "I think I fell backwards on it. Yeah, I almost knocked the bookshelf over and--" She froze, suddenly, and looked away.

An unexpected wave of guilt and shame hit her and she felt her eyes cloud over. Stupid, stupid,  _what have you done?_

"Lena, listen to me. I need you to listen, okay? You're not in trouble. Don't start beating yourself up over this, do you understand me?"

Lena looked down, away from Beakley. "But it's my fault, I--" Her tears started again, "I feel--funny."

"Probably an adrenaline crash." Beakley snipped the hairs on her other fingers as she spoke, "It's alright. Your emotions are going haywire, and that's normal for right now. Your emotions have probably been out of sorts for a while now, am I correct?" When Lena nodded she pressed on, "We'll get you to see a doctor. There's stuff that can help with this. You should... probably talk to someone, too."

Lena knew what she meant. It had been Donald that suggested she get a therapist, but Lena was too scared to talk to anyone. She didn't need anyone else in her life, especially a stranger that she was supposed to tell all of her secrets to. Still, maybe it would be better than... Than slamming herself into her walls in hopes of feeling something again.

She didn't answer, but she felt a bit more grounded in the moment. Beakley ran her hands softly over Lena's arms to check for the worst bruises and cuts. Thankfully there was only one cut--about an inch long on her left arm--and Lena wasn't entirely sure how she got it. She'd kind of checked out for a little bit at several points of her... Episode.

Beakley handed her some pain pills to take with a paper cup and Lena downed them eagerly. Beakley checked for a concussion just in case (they both thought it was a miracle she didn't have one) and then Lena sat with her head down as Beakley stared at her in silence.

She expected... She wasn't sure. A lecture, maybe. Guilt, perhaps? Yeah, that was probably it. Beakley would say  _You should be grateful._ Her voice definitely didn't sound suspiciously like Magica's in Lena's head when she imagined her saying  _Why aren't you better yet? Why don't you appreciate us?_

It hurt because she  _did_. She absolutely appreciated them, and she owed them her life. She didn't  _know_ why she was so--so--

"Lena, do you know what trauma is?" Beakley's thoughtful tone caught her off guard. When she looked up Beakley looked troubled, the same looked she had when anyone mentioned Magica when she was in the room. It made Lena feel funny in a way she couldn't place.

"It's like... Bad things, right? I dunno." She shrugged and held her bandaged arm to her chest. "Why?"

Beakley was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. "You're right, it's bad things. Trauma can affect people differently. Some people can deal with trauma well from the start. You might not even know they've been traumatized. Some people react differently, though. They get angry, or they get sad, or they're just... Different."

Lena felt a white hot pang of fear in her chest as she realized where the conversation was going.

"Lena, what you've gone through is trauma. I don't even know the half of it, I'm sure, and that concerns me even more. The way Magica treated you was abusive. The way you grew up was despicable. It's trauma, Lena, and it's okay to be upset because of it." Beakley put a hand on Lena's shoulder gently. "No one's expecting you to be okay right away. You're not going to recover tonight. We don't expect you to. And we're no less proud of you for it."

Lena looked up at that, surprised. "But I--I should be okay, shouldn't I? That's the whole point of me being here." Her mind swam at the information. She was... Greedy. Unsatisfied. She should be happy, shouldn't she? And it was her own personal failing that she wasn't. It wasn't Magica or anyone else that made her unhappy, right?

Beakley blinked a few times before a shadow fell across her face. It was gone the next moment, though, and it left Lena wondering.

"Lena, listen to me. You're here because we love you. You don't have to do anything or be anyone but yourself to be here." Beakley's voice was deathly serious, like when she scolded one of the other kids for doing something dangerous. That connection made Lena's heart stutter. "I'm sorry if we've made you think otherwise. It's simply untrue."

Lena sobbed and wiped her sleeve across her face harshly. She didn't know how to respond to that. When Beakley leaned forward and gently wrapped her arms around her Lena nearly collapsed against her. She felt so many conflicting emotions that it left her absolutely exhausted--not to say anything about the physical injuries and the adrenaline crash. 

Beakley leaned back enough to rinse a hand towel in the sink and bring it up to Lena's face. The cool water was comforting and certainly felt a lot better than backhanding her nightstand. She let Beakley wipe her eyes and face with it and looked up when Beakley gently moved her bangs out of her eyes.

"'m sorry..."

"No, don't be. Don't misunderstand, I'm not happy about this. This isn't something you should do." Beakley paused for a moment as Lena looked away, fully aware of the fact, "But I don't blame you for this. We're going to work on this though, together. There are better ways to deal with how you feel. It's bad enough the other children come marching in with injuries all the time. You all are going to be the death of me."

Lena found her lips tilt into a small smile, and Beakley looked satisfied. 

"Come, you look like you could use a warm drink. We'll talk more about this in a little bit." Beakley made a move to lift her off the counter but Lena stopped her.

"W-wait," She licked her lips nervously, "I..." She panicked, suddenly uncertain. She didn't want the conversation to continue--it was way too draining--but she still sought out... Comfort? Validation? A combination of the two. She felt like once the conversation ended it would never be brought up again. Things would go back to normal. She would suffer in silence once again.

She knew that wasn't true, on some level. She knew it was anxiety. But, still, she couldn't be sure.

"Can I... Have a hug?" She hated her voice, hated how small and uncertain she sounded, but... She wanted a hug. She wanted validation and comfort. Maybe it was too much to ask for, but she had to take that chance at least once. 

Beakley chuckled as she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Lena once again. "Of course, Dear. Always, anytime, okay?" She ran her fingers through Lena's hair as Lena settled in against her again.

Lena nodded and wrapped her good arm around Beakley's neck as she buried her face in her shoulder.

"Okay."


End file.
